Part 11

The thought of the trial never left him again. He had often considered whether it would not be good to draw up a written defense and submit it to the court. In it he wanted to present a brief account of his life and, for every event of some importance, explain the reasons why he had acted as he did, whether in his present judgment such conduct was to be rejected or approved, and what grounds he could adduce for this or that. The advantages of such a written defense over mere defense by the advocate—who was in other respects not beyond reproach either—were undeniable. K. did not even know what the advocate was undertaking; in any case it was not much; for a whole month now he had not summoned him, and even at none of the earlier discussions had K. had the impression that this man could achieve much for him. Above all, he had scarcely questioned him at all. And yet there was so much to ask. Asking was the main thing. K. had the feeling that he himself could put all the necessary questions here. The advocate, on the contrary, instead of asking, told stories himself or sat silently opposite him, bent slightly over the desk—probably because of his weak hearing—pulled at a strand of hair within his beard, and looked down at the carpet, perhaps exactly at the spot where K. had lain with Leni. Now and then he gave K. some empty admonitions, such as one gives to children. Equally useless and tedious speeches, which K. had no intention of paying for with a single penny in the final reckoning. After the advocate believed he had humiliated K. sufficiently, he usually began to cheer him up a little again. He had already, he then related, won many similar trials completely or partially. Trials which, though perhaps not really as difficult as this one, looked outwardly even more hopeless. A list of these trials he had here in the drawer—here he tapped some drawer of the table—the documents he unfortunately could not show, as they were official secrets. Nevertheless, the great experience he had acquired through all these trials now benefited K. He had of course begun working at once, and the first submission was almost finished. It was very important, because the first impression made by the defense often determined the whole direction of the proceedings. Unfortunately—and he had to draw K.'s attention to this—it sometimes happened that the first submissions were not read at court at all. They were simply filed with the records and it was pointed out that for the present the examination and observation of the accused was more important than anything written. If the petitioner became urgent, they added that before the decision, until all material was gathered, they would of course review all the files in context, thus this first submission as well. But unfortunately this too was mostly untrue; the first submission was usually mislaid or lost entirely, and even if it survived to the end, it was, as the advocate had only heard by rumor, scarcely read. All this was regrettable, but not entirely without justification. K. should not fail to note that the proceedings were not public; they could become public if the court deemed it necessary, but the law did not prescribe publicity. Consequently the court's documents, especially the indictment, were inaccessible to the accused and his defense; one therefore generally did not know, or at least not precisely, what the first submission should be directed against; it can therefore really contain only by chance something of significance to the case. Truly pertinent and probative submissions can only be drawn up later, when in the course of the examinations of the accused the individual points of the indictment and their grounds emerge or can be guessed more clearly. Under these circumstances the defense is naturally in a very unfavorable and difficult position. But this too is intended. For the defense is not actually permitted by law, but merely tolerated, and even as to whether from the relevant passage of the law at least toleration is to be read, there is dispute. There are therefore strictly speaking no advocates recognized by the court; all who appear before this court as advocates are essentially only pettifoggers. This naturally has a very degrading effect on the whole profession, and if K. should go into the court offices sometime soon, he could, just to have seen it once, look at the advocates' room. He would probably be horrified at the company assembled there. Even the narrow low chamber assigned to them showed the contempt the court had for these people. The chamber receives light only through a small window set so high that, if one wants to look out—where moreover the smoke of a chimney located just in front hits one in the nose and blackens the face—one must first find a colleague to take one on his back. In the floor of this chamber—to cite but one more example of these conditions—for more than a year now there has been a hole, not so large that a person could fall through, but large enough that one sinks in completely with one leg. The advocates' room is on the second attic; if someone sinks in, then, his leg hangs down into the first attic, and precisely into the passage where the parties wait. It is not saying too much to call such conditions disgraceful in advocates' circles. Complaints to the administration have not the slightest success; but the advocates are strictly forbidden to have anything in the room changed at their own expense. Yet even this treatment of the advocates has its grounds. One wants to exclude the defense as far as possible; everything is to rest on the accused himself. Not a bad standpoint in principle; but nothing would be more mistaken than to conclude from this that before this court advocates are unnecessary for the accused. On the contrary, before no other court are they so necessary as before this one. For the proceedings are generally not only secret from the public, but also from the accused. Naturally only insofar as this is possible; but it is possible to a very wide extent. For the accused too has no insight into the court documents, and to infer from the interrogations the writings underlying them is very difficult, especially for the accused, who is after all biased and has all manner of worries that distract him. Here the defense intervenes. At the interrogations advocates are generally not permitted to be present; they must therefore, after the interrogations and indeed preferably still at the door of the examining room, sound out the accused about the interrogation, and extract from these often already very blurred reports what is useful for the defense. But this is not the most important thing; for in this way one cannot learn much, though of course here as everywhere a capable man learns more than others. The most important thing remains the advocate's personal connections; in them lies the main value of the defense. Now K. had surely gathered from his own experiences that the very lowest organization of the court is not entirely perfect, shows negligent and corrupt employees, whereby the strict seclusion of the court acquires, so to speak, loopholes. Here the majority of advocates push in; here bribes are given and information extracted; indeed, at least in earlier times, cases of theft of files even occurred. It cannot be denied that in this way for the moment some even surprisingly favorable results for the accused can be achieved; with these the little advocates strut about and lure new custom; but for the further course of the trial it means either nothing or nothing good. Real value, however, lies only in honest personal connections, and indeed with higher officials—whereby naturally only higher officials of the lower grades are meant. Only thereby can the course of the trial, at first only imperceptibly, but later always more clearly, be influenced. Naturally only a few advocates can do that, and here K.'s choice had been very fortunate. Perhaps only one or two other advocates could show connections similar to Dr. Huld's. These, however, do not concern themselves with the society in the advocates' room and have nothing to do with it. But all the closer is the connection with the court officials. It is not even always necessary for Dr. Huld to go to court, to wait in the anterooms of the examining judges for their chance appearance, and achieve, according to their mood, a mostly only apparent success or not even that. No—K. had seen it himself—the officials, among them quite high ones, come themselves, give willing information, open or at least easily interpretable, discuss the further course of the trials, indeed they even let themselves be convinced in individual cases and gladly adopt the foreign view. Admittedly one must not trust them too much precisely in this last respect; however definitely they express their new, defense-favorable intention, they perhaps go straight to their office and issue for the next day a court order containing just the opposite, and perhaps even stricter for the accused than their first intention, from which they claim to have entirely departed. Against this one can naturally not defend oneself, for what they said in private is after all said only in private and permits no public conclusion, even if the defense did not in any case have to strive to preserve the favor of the gentlemen. On the other hand it is of course also true that the gentlemen do not enter into connection with the defense—naturally only with a competent defense—merely out of love of mankind or friendly feelings; rather they are in a certain respect dependent on it too. Here the disadvantage of a court organization makes itself felt, which even in its beginnings establishes the secret report. The officials lack connection with the population; for ordinary middle-level trials they are well equipped, such a trial rolls almost of itself along its track and needs only now and then a push; but toward quite simple cases as also toward particularly difficult ones they are often at a loss; because they are continually cramped day and night in their law, they lack the right sense for human relations, and in such cases they sorely miss them. Then they come to the advocate for advice, and behind them a servant carries the files, otherwise so secret. At this window one could have met, on such occasions, many a gentleman from whom one would least expect it, as they looked almost despairingly out onto the street, while the advocate at his table studied the files in order to give them good advice. Incidentally one can see precisely on such occasions how immensely seriously the gentlemen take their office, and how they fall into great despair over obstacles they by nature cannot master. Their position is not easy otherwise either, and one must not do them injustice and regard their position as easy. The rank order and the escalation of the court is infinite and not even for the initiated foreseeable. The procedure before the courts is generally secret even for the lower officials; they can therefore scarcely ever completely follow the affairs they process in their further progress; the court matter thus appears in their jurisdiction without their often knowing whence it comes, and goes on without their learning whither. The instruction, then, that one can draw from the study of the individual stages of the trial, the final decision and its grounds, escapes these officials. They may occupy themselves only with that part of the trial delimited for them by law, and know of the further, thus of the results of their own work, mostly less than the defense, which after all as a rule remains in connection with the accused almost until the end of the trial. Also in this direction, therefore, they can learn much of value from the defense. Let K. wonder, if he keeps all this in view, at the irritability of the officials, which sometimes expresses itself toward the parties in—everyone makes this experience—an insulting manner. All officials are irritable, even if they seem calm. Naturally the little advocates have especially much to suffer under it. One tells, for example, the following story, which has very much the appearance of truth. An old official, a good quiet gentleman, had studied a difficult court matter, which had been particularly complicated by the advocate's submissions, uninterruptedly for a day and a night—these officials are in fact diligent as no one else. Toward morning then, after 24 hours of probably not very fruitful work, he went to the entrance door, placed himself in ambush there, and threw down the stairs every advocate who wanted to enter. The advocates gathered below on the landing and deliberated what to do; on the one hand they have no real claim to be admitted, can therefore scarcely take legal action against the official, and must, as already mentioned, also beware of antagonizing the officialdom. On the other hand, however, every day not spent at court is lost for them, and it mattered much to them to force their way in. Finally they agreed to try to tire out the old gentleman. Again and again an advocate was sent out who ran up the stairs and then let himself be thrown down with the greatest possible, though passive, resistance, where he was caught by his colleagues. This lasted about an hour; then the old gentleman, who was of course already exhausted by the night's work, really grew tired and went back to his office. Those below would not believe it at first and first sent one out to look behind the door whether it was really empty there. Only then did they enter and probably did not even dare to murmur. For it is entirely far from the advocates—and even the smallest can after all at least partly oversee the conditions—to want to introduce or enforce any improvements at court, while—and this is very characteristic—almost every accused, even quite simple people, begins at the very first entry into the trial to think of suggestions for improvement and thereby often wastes time and strength that could be used much better otherwise. The only right thing is to come to terms with the existing conditions. Even if it were possible to improve details—but that is a senseless superstition—one would at best have achieved something for future cases, but harmed oneself immeasurably by having aroused the special attention of the ever vengeful officialdom. Only do not attract attention! Behave quietly, even if it goes against one's grain ever so much! Try to understand that this great court organism remains, so to speak, eternally suspended, and that one may indeed, if one changes something independently in one's place, take the ground from under one's feet and oneself plunge, while the great organism easily creates compensation for the small disturbance at another place—everything is after all in connection—and remains unchanged, if it does not perhaps, which is even probable, become more closed, more attentive, stricter, more evil. Let the advocate do the work, instead of disturbing it. Reproaches do not help much, especially when one cannot make their cause comprehensible in its full significance, but it must be said how much K. has harmed his cause by his behavior toward the chief clerk. This influential man is already almost to be struck from the list of those with whom one could undertake something for K. He overhears even casual mentions of the trial with obvious intent. In some respects the officials are like children. Often they can be so hurt by innocuous things—among which unfortunately K.'s behavior was not to be counted—that they even stop speaking with good friends, turn away from them when they meet, and work against them in every possible way. But then once, surprisingly, without special reason, they let themselves be brought to laughter by a little joke, which one dares only because everything seems hopeless, and are reconciled. It is thus simultaneously difficult and easy to deal with them; there are scarcely any principles for it. Sometimes it is astonishing that a single average life suffices to grasp so much that one can work here with some success. There are of course gloomy hours, as everyone has, when one believes one has achieved not the least, when it seems to one as if only those trials determined from the beginning for a good outcome have ended well, as would have happened without help too, while all others were lost, despite all running alongside, all effort, all little apparent successes over which one had such joy. Then indeed nothing seems safe to one anymore, and upon definite questions one would not even dare to deny that one has led precisely those trials proceeding well in their nature onto wrong paths through the help. That too is a kind of self-confidence, but it is the only one that then remains. Such fits—they are of course only fits, nothing more—advocates are especially prone to when a trial they have conducted far enough and satisfactorily is suddenly taken from their hands. That is probably the worst that can happen to an advocate. Not by the accused is the trial taken from them; that never happens; an accused who has once taken a certain advocate must remain with him, whatever may happen. How could he, having once accepted help, maintain himself alone at all. That therefore does not happen; but it does sometimes happen that the trial takes a direction where the advocate may no longer come along. The trial and the accused and everything is simply taken from the advocate; then even the best connections with the officials can no longer help, for they themselves know nothing. The trial has simply entered a stage where no help may be given anymore, where inaccessible courts are working on it, where the accused is no longer reachable for the advocate either. One comes home one day and finds on one's table all the many submissions one had made in this matter with all diligence and the fairest hopes; they have been returned, as they may not be transferred into the new stage of the trial; they are worthless rags. Yet the trial need not be lost thereby, by no means; at least no decisive ground for this assumption exists; one simply knows nothing more of the trial and will learn nothing more of it. Now such cases are fortunately exceptions, and even if K.'s trial should be such a case, he is for the present still far from such a stage. Here, however, there is still abundant opportunity for advocacy work, and that it be exploited, of that K. may be certain. The submission is, as mentioned, not yet delivered; but that is not urgent either; much more important are the introductory discussions with authoritative officials, and those have already taken place. With varying success, as is to be openly admitted. It is much better not to reveal details for the present, through which K. could only be unfavorably influenced and made overly hopeful or overly anxious; only this much be said, that some have expressed themselves very favorably and shown themselves very willing, while others have spoken less favorably but by no means refused their assistance. The result is thus on the whole very pleasing, only one must not draw any special conclusions from it, as all preliminary negotiations begin similarly and only the further development shows the value of these preliminary negotiations. In any case nothing is lost yet, and if it should still succeed in winning over the chief clerk despite everything—various steps to this end have already been initiated—then the whole would be—as the surgeons say—a clean wound, and one could calmly await what follows.

In such and similar speeches the advocate was inexhaustible. They repeated themselves at every visit. There was always progress, but the nature of this progress could never be communicated. The first submission was continually being worked on, but it was not finished; which mostly turned out at the next visit as a certain advantage, since the last period, which one could not have foreseen, would have been very unfavorable for delivery. If K. sometimes remarked, quite exhausted by the speeches, that even taking all difficulties into account it was going forward very slowly, he was answered that it was not going forward slowly at all, but one would already be much further if K. had turned to the advocate in time. But he had unfortunately neglected that, and this neglect would bring further disadvantages too, not only temporal ones.

The only beneficial interruption of these visits was Leni, who always managed to bring the advocate the tea in K.'s presence. Then she stood behind K., apparently watching how the advocate, with a kind of greed, bent deep down to the cup and poured and drank the tea, and secretly let her hand be grasped by K. There was complete silence. The advocate drank, K. pressed Leni's hand, and Leni sometimes dared to stroke K.'s hair gently. "Are you still here?" asked the advocate, after he was finished. "I wanted to take the dishes away," said Leni; there was one last handshake, the advocate wiped his mouth and began anew with fresh force to talk at K.

Was it comfort or despair the advocate wanted to achieve? K. did not know; but he soon held it as established that his defense was not in good hands. All that the advocate related might be correct, even if it was transparent that he wanted to place himself in the foreground as much as possible and probably had never yet conducted so great a trial as, in his opinion, K.'s trial was. Suspicious, however, remained the continually emphasized personal connections with the officials. Must they be exploited exclusively for K.'s benefit? The advocate never forgot to remark that it was only a matter of low officials, thus officials in a very dependent position, for whose advancement certain turns of the trials could probably be of significance. Did they perhaps use the advocate to bring about such turns, naturally always unfavorable for the accused? Perhaps they did not do that in every trial; certainly that was not probable; then again there were probably trials in whose course they granted the advocate advantages for his services, for they must also have an interest in keeping his reputation undamaged. But if that was really so, in what manner would they intervene in K.'s trial, which, as the advocate declared, was a very difficult, thus important trial and had from the beginning aroused great attention at court? It could not be very doubtful what they would do. A sign of this could already be seen in the fact that the first submission had still not been delivered, despite the trial having lasted months already, and that everything, according to the advocate's statements, was still in the beginnings, which was of course very suited to lull the accused to sleep and keep him helpless, in order then to surprise him suddenly with the decision or at least with the announcement that the investigation concluded to his disadvantage was being passed on to the higher authorities.

It was absolutely necessary that K. intervene himself. Precisely in states of great weariness, as on this winter morning, where everything drifted will-less through his head, this conviction was unavoidable. The contempt he had formerly had for the trial no longer held. If he had been alone in the world, he could easily have disregarded the trial, though it was certain that then the trial would not have arisen at all. But now the uncle had already drawn him to the advocate, family considerations spoke; his position was no longer completely independent of the course of the trial; he himself had incautiously, with a certain inexplicable satisfaction, mentioned the trial before acquaintances; others had learned of it in unknown ways; the relation to Fräulein Bürstner seemed to fluctuate corresponding to the trial—in short, he hardly had the choice anymore to accept or reject the trial; he stood in the middle of it and had to defend himself. When he was weary, then it was bad.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”